


Too Hard a Knot For Me to Untie

by planet_plantagenet



Series: Dave and Karkat (and the Mayor) on the Meteor [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Meteorstuck, Movie Night, POV Second Person, References to Shakespeare, Sexuality Crisis, knowledge of shakespeare helpful but unnecessary, the title is from twelfth night of course, there are probably tons of fics like this but yknow what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-25 20:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14985173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet_plantagenet/pseuds/planet_plantagenet
Summary: Dave didn’t expect to be kissed by his alien best friend (after watching a Shakespeare play, no less). He definitely didn’t expect to have a massive sexuality crisis right after.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the bulk of the story; the next chapter is more of an epilogue

Admittedly, you don’t really know anything about Shakespeare. Sure, you’ve watched Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, and maybe a couple others, and can whip out a famous quote or two if prompted, but you don’t actually remember the plots of those particular plays beyond rough outlines. Nevertheless, many of Shakespeare’s works are essentially romcoms (the _original_ romcoms, you remind yourself; the platonic ideals of romcoms), making them worthy of movie night with Karkat.

Trolls have a Shakespeare too, but Karkat knows even less about him than you do about the human version. Public gatherings were best avoided if you were a caste-less mutant, Karkat explains, so he’d never seen a live play. But he is curious about the human film productions, so the two of you decide to check them out.

On the first night, it’s Much Ado About Nothing, a comedy you’ve barely heard of but end up thoroughly enjoying, to your surprise. It’s directed by some guy called Kenneth Branagh, who you vaguely recognize from one of the Harry Potter movies. Karkat is on the edge of his seat the whole time, ears perked, listening to the language flow over him. You understand the old-timey words well enough to get the plot and many of the jokes, but it’s clear that Karkat, despite never having heard a word of this guy’s writing, somehow has a much better grasp on it than you ever would’ve expected. You find yourself pausing the movie quite a few times to let Karkat clarify some finer plot points that you missed.

When the film is over, Karkat launches into a speech about how Beatrice and Benedick are obviously a flushed/caliginous vacillating pair, and were this Troll Shakespeare, that would’ve been more explicit. But despite his loud complaints, it’s clear that he also enjoyed the movie. On your way out, he asks you to bring another Shakespeare play tomorrow.

You pick Twelfth Night. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard of it before—it’s the one with crossdressing twins, right? You curl up on the couch, dim the lights, and wait for it to begin.

It’s very good. And hilarious. There are scenes where you and Karkat are just barely suppressing giggles. Who knew tricking a guy into wearing ugly yellow socks could be so goddamn hysterical?

There’s a large popcorn bowl between the two of you, but it’s empty by about halfway through the movie. Not breaking eye contact with the screen, Karkat sets the bowl on the floor and scooches closer to you, laying his head on your shoulder. Your attention is instantly pulled away from the movie. Karkat can’t be _that_ tired, can he? You’re leaning on the left armrest; why can’t he take the right? But after a while, you get used to it, and the weight on your shoulder feels nice. Not to mention, Karkat’s hair is soft and fluffy. You kind of want to touch it, but push that thought to the back of your mind.

Another thing you quickly notice about Twelfth Night—it doesn’t take an English major to tell that this play is pretty fucking gay. The sea captain Antonio clearly has the hots for Sebastian (I mean, what else can you get from lines like, _“If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant,”_ and _“_ _My desire, more sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth”_?), and both Duke Orsino and Countess Olivia are hitting on Viola, a girl disguised as a boy.

But alas, when the ending comes around, it’s the men and the women who get together, leaving characters like Antonio with no happy ending. You can’t shake the feeling that there’s something wrong about this ending—that’s not how it was supposed to go; it only went that way because of heteronormativity or some bullshit like that. But oh well, it’s not like you were expecting anything queer at all in a play written around 1600.

Karkat, however, is livid. Since the beginning of the final scene, he’s been kneeling on the couch, back straight and eyes wide. The second the credits start to roll, he jabs the pause button.

“What the everloving fuck was that,” he begins, thrusting an accusatory finger at the television screen. “You can’t be fucking serious. _That’s_ how it ended?? Olivia with Sebastian??? They look at each other for five seconds and decide hey, what the fuck, let’s just make out on the fucking couch like the slobbering lascivious dipshits we are! She just mistook him for Cesario! Why would he _marry_ her! He has more chemistry with the grass on her fucking lawn than he does with her! And don’t get me started on Antonio—!”

“Dude,” you say, your tone significantly calmer than your enraged friend’s, “I know, it fucking sucks. But chill.”

Karkat does no such thing. He scoots closer to you, still sitting on his knees. “Is this some sort of hallmark of human cinema? The men _always_ get with the women, even if it fucks with existing plot points and relationships?”

You sigh. “Pretty much.”

He’s silent for a second, flopping over and sinking deeper into the couch. Man, he’s angrier about this than you would’ve expected.

“If this were Troll Shakespeare,” Karkat says, quieter, voice still filled with anger, “Sebastian would’ve gotten with Antonio. Did you see the way they were looking at each other?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“You know, none of the human movies we’ve seen have featured two men or two women in a flushed relationship. Not one.”

“That’s just how humans are,” you murmur, and regret it instantly. No, that’s not what you meant—not all humans are like that—

Karkat snorts. “What. You can’t possibly be telling me that human men _only_ get flushed for human women. That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“No—no, of course not—” You trip over your words, trying to find a good way to explain what _should_ be a very simple topic. For some reason, the conversation is making you more nervous than you would’ve expected. “It’s just, for humans, men can only reproduce with women, and vice versa. So that’s who they’re usually attracted to.”

“Usually?”

“Well, some humans are gay, meaning they only like people of the same gender as them—but not many people are—”

You stop. Karkat’s eyes are wide. He’s sitting up straight again, looking at you with an expression that you can’t read. It’s something between anger, longing, and sheer disbelief, and your heart starts to inexplicably beat faster. What’s he doing? Why is this so important to him?

“That’s bullshit,” he says.

“No, it’s true—”

He inches towards you, putting his hands on the arm of the couch behind you. His face is twisted into a look of panic. “You’re not like that, though, are you, Dave? You like both boys and girls, right?”

“I—” You can’t think of an answer. Shit, you don’t even know what the correct answer would be. Your automatic response would be to tell him you’re straight, you only like girls. But for some stupid fucking reason—because you can’t think properly, because it’s late, because Karkat’s face is inches away from yours, because he looks so incredibly, inexplicably desperate—

“Yeah, of course I like boys too,” you hear yourself saying. Fuck. “Boys are great.”

Karkat’s face melts with relief. He's so close now, holy shit—pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and leaning over you. His head blocks your view of the dim light on the ceiling.

“Thank fucking god,” he whispers.

And then he grabs your face and kisses you, and every cell in your body goes into overdrive. You're frozen in place, millions of thoughts and emotions whirling through your head, none coherent enough to even begin to express. Karkat’s face is burning hot, and his hands are sweaty. His chest is pressed against yours (holy fuck, he's practically on top of you at this point) and you can hear his heart pattering just as fast as yours. This is _not_ how the night was going five minutes ago.

A single thought suddenly slides into place, crystal clear in your mind: you're actually really, really enjoying this. You throw your arm around Karkat’s back and are about to pull him closer when a second thought occurs to you.

Karkat is a boy. An alien boy. And you're a boy too. You're a human boy and you're straight as a fucking ruler, no matter what shit you might've just said seconds earlier, and no matter who you're presently making out with.

Panic rises in your chest, and your heart goes cold. You tear your face away from Karkat’s and push him off you, scrambling to get up. You take several unsteady steps away from the couch. Karkat’s wide eyes follow you.

“What the FUCK, Karkat,” is all you can say.

He opens his mouth, but you can't look at him anymore.

You wrench the door open and run.

You’re shaking. Your face is burning. You don’t even know where you’re going—just somewhere away from the lounge, anywhere. You periodically whip around to make sure Karkat hasn’t decided to follow you. But the halls of the meteor are dead silent. Your irregular footsteps ring out.

Somehow, you feel like however far you go, it’s not far enough. Karkat’s still there, presumably in the lounge, and omnipresent in your mind. It’s as if there’s a rubber band connecting the two of you, and you’re just stretching and stretching it until it’s paper thin. Distance isn’t going to make it snap.

You find yourself staggering into your room and slamming the door behind you. The lights flicker on, and you shut your eyes against the sudden brightness. A headache is already forming in your forehead. You go into the bathroom, run the cold water in the sink, and splash it over your face. You can still feel Karkat’s sweaty hands on your cheeks, the taste of his lips on yours….

You prop your shades up on your forehead and stare into the mirror. Your cheeks are as red as your eyes.

Oh my god, does this make you gay?

It wasn’t your idea. It was his idea. You didn’t see it coming from a mile away. And it was only a kiss. It’s not like you fucked or anything. And he’s an alien, too. Trolls obviously have different ideas about gender than humans do, so if he’s not really a boy in the same sense of the word that you’re used to, does kissing him still count as a gay thing to do? No, wait, Karkat still identifies with the label “boy.” Fuck. Gender is so weird.

You slip your shades back over your eyes and leave the bathroom, fumbling around in your pocket for your phone.

 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  tentacleTherapist [TT]

TG: is it gay to kiss a boy  
TT: It depends.  
TT: Do you have something you’d like to tell me?  
TG: no im just wondering  
TG: im not gay  
TT: If you say so.  
TG: fuck nevermind forget i said anything

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  tentacleTherapist [TT]

 

You flop down onto your bed and lie there for about a minute. You can’t tell Rose about this. Not yet. Your still rapidly-beating heart begins to slow, and you gather up your thoughts enough to face the biggest question: what do you feel about Karkat?

That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what’s going to determine your sexuality—your actual attraction, not the kiss, or anything else.

You think about how much you enjoy spending time with Karkat. How you love your stupid banter, and listening to him rant about movies. How it feels when he touches you, be it accidentally or on purpose. How much you wanted to continue kissing him before the weight of societal expectations crashed down on you.

You’re just a horny teenager, right? If someone kisses you, you’re gonna like it, right? Right? No, that isn’t how it works, dumbass.

With a groan, you flip over and lie on your stomach, burying your face in the pillow. All right, fuck it, you’re in love with a boy. Big fucking deal.

A tiny weight lifts off your chest and flies away.

A memory comes back to you. Texas, 2006. Walking down a crowded street with your Bro. A man standing at the corner with a megaphone, screaming that all gays are destined for hell, that they’re unnatural sinners, that they deserve torment.

Bro takes your hand and grips it until it hurts. He pulls you across the street, keeping himself between you and the man. He says nothing, but his face is set in a grimace, lit up with quiet anger. He doesn’t let go of your hand until the man is out of earshot.

That’s one of the only times your Bro has made you feel safe.

But despite his protection, it’s hard not to take the man’s words to heart. Sure, you’ve got no problem with gay people. Rose is gay, and you love her just as much as you would if she weren’t. Most of the trolls are bi or pan or something. But it’s different if it’s you.

Okay, now that you’re actually, seriously giving thought to the idea that you might not be as straight as you originally presumed, things are slowly falling into place. You look back through your memories, testing some of your relationships and emotional moments against the hypothesis that you might like boys, too.

John. Oh my god. You’re now fairly certain that you had a crush on John. But of course, you’d just assumed the weird desire to kiss him that occasionally arose from the depths of your brain was simply the product of an irony master’s mind at work. No gay thoughts here. Dave Strider, a straight heterosexual with completely platonic feelings for his best bro? More likely than you think.

This whole train of thought is starting to weird you out somewhat, partly because you’re now understanding so much more about your thirteen-year-old self’s fucked-up brain, partly because you haven’t talked with John Egbert for at least two years now, and partly because _oh my god, I’ve been attracted to two whole boys, this isn’t normal._

And, you realize, one of these boys, the one who you’re currently into (a fact that you only stopped denying to yourself a couple minutes ago)—you just completely abandoned him and probably made him feel like shit.

You pull out your phone again and feel it in your hands. You can just text him. It won’t be that bad. Better than not having closure and worrying about this for days.

 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TG: hey karkat  
TG: uh  
TG: im really sorry for panicking earlier and noping out of there  
TG: god i really made an extraordinarily hasty exit didnt i  
CG: YES, YOU REALLY DID.  
CG: BUT IT’S FINE. I’M THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE APOLOGIZING.  
CG: IT WAS INAPPROPRIATE TO KISS YOU LIKE THAT, NOT TO MENTION INCREDIBLY PRESUMPTUOUS OF ME TO THINK YOU HAD ANY KIND OF RED FEELINGS FOR ME.  
CG: THAT’S FINE. I DON’T MIND.  
TG: no thats  
TG: thats not what i  
TG: fuck never mind  
TG: where are you right now  
CG: STILL IN THE LOUNGE.  
TG: oh man have you been sitting there this whole time  
CG: WELL, YEAH  
TG: shit sorry  
TG: can we talk about this  
TG: i mean if youre ok with that  
CG: OH, NOW HE WANTS TO TALK.  
TG: yeah i do!  
CG: WHERE ARE YOU?  
TG: my room

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

 

Your heart’s speeding up again. Shit. You handled that really horribly, didn’t you. And now Karkat’s coming over—and he’s probably mad at you—what are you going to say—how are you going to explain yourself—

You need help.

 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  tentacleTherapist [TT]

TG: help i think i might be gay  
TT: Well, that’s a change from five minutes ago.  
TT: Just what prompted this sudden shift in sexuality?  
TG: uh  
TG: some stuff happened  
TG: and now im pretty sure im bi or something  
TG: like i like girls but i also like boys too  
TT: Yes, I know what bisexuality is.  
TT: What sorts of “stuff” happened, if you don’t mind me asking?  
TG: i was  
TG: watching a movie  
TG: with karkat  
TT: Ah.  
TG: shut up im not done  
TG: and we talked about it for literally like a minute  
TG: then completely out of nowhere he just sorta  
TG: kissed me  
TT: !!  
TG: and then because im just that hopeless i flipped my shit and fuckin ran away  
TG: and proceeded to have a huge fuckin sexuality crisis  
TG: god hes coming over now and i dont know if ill be able to face him  
TG: was it ever like this with you and kanaya  
TT: We did have our share of awkward moments, but no, nothing quite like this.  
TG: rose what do i do  
TT: Be honest with him.  
TT: Do you like him as much as he likes you?  
TG: well thats the question isnt it  
TG: i think so  
TG: no fuck that i definitely like him  
TG: but what if he doesnt like me anymore what do i do  
TT: Dave.  
TT: I doubt that Karkat’s feelings for you would shift so drastically in a matter of minutes.  
TG: yeah sure but how do i explain my sudden leaving  
TG: “oh yeah sorry bout that im a product of a fuckin homophobic society and i hate myself for feeling attraction to someone of the same gender as me”  
TT: I think something like that would be good, yes.  
TT: Also, I empathize. I had similar thoughts when I first came to terms with my own sexuality.  
TT: But please don’t forget.  
TT: We’re not on Earth anymore. No one is judging you in the same way you’d be judged there.  
TT: It is completely okay for you to be in love with Karkat.  
TT: I believe in you. You can make this work.  
TG: thanks  
TG: goddamn what would i do without you rose  
TG: all this drama just from watching a fucking shakespeare play  
TG: its crazy  
TT: You were watching Shakespeare?  
TG: yeah twelfth night  
TG: which is super gay too  
TT: Yes, it is.  
TT: Here’s a fun fact for you, Dave: Shakespeare is widely believed by scholars to have been bisexual.  
TG: holy shit  
TG: no way  
TG: how do they know that  
TT: Over half of his love sonnets are addressed to a young man.  
TT: And, of course, there are other indications.  
TT: I just thought that might make you feel a little more confident in your sexuality.  
TG: hell yeah im like shakespeare now  
TG: gonna start composing sonnets to my alien lover now just you wait  
TG: cooking up sick beats in iambic pentameter  
TG: oh fuck i think i heard footsteps outside  
TG: karkats here  
TT: Good luck!

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  tentacleTherapist [TT]

 

There’s a quiet knock on the door. You sit up straight (haha, straight, unlike you), heart pounding. This was a horrible idea. What are you going to say—

“Come in,” you whisper.

Karkat pokes his head around the door. His cheeks are flushed a darker grey—how he’s able to blush without revealing his blood color, you’ll never know—and his eyes are downcast. Your heart melts at the sight of him. God, why are you suddenly feeling like this, it’s not like the two of you have never spoken before. It’s not like you’ve suddenly developed a crush on him in the last five minutes. You just didn’t realize it until now.

“Hey,” says Karkat, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey.”

Neither of you move. He’s still standing by the door, not looking at you. You gesture him towards the bed, to sit down next to you. He slowly does, leaving a space of about three or four feet between you.

“You good?” you ask to break the silence.

Karkat turns on you. “What do you think, numbnuts? Oh yeah, I’m just super, not like I just spent the last ten minutes in agonizing contemplation, picking apart my emotions and your reactions until the pile of dismembered thoughts was big enough to stuff down my throat and asphyxiate myself with.”

Oh fuck. So he’d done the exact same thing, had he. “Yeah, same here. Turns out that choking yourself with your own emotions doesn’t count as a heroic or a just death, though.”

Karkat makes a strangled noise and puts his face in his hands. “What do you want, Strider. I’ve basically fucked up in every way possible already, so nothing is going to make me feel any worse.”

You move a foot closer to him. He doesn’t react. “I—I just wanted to apologize for running away. You scared me, dude.”

“Clearly,” he mutters.

“Look.” You sigh. “In human culture, there’s just this… taboo against being attracted to—being flushed for—people of the same gender as you.”

“Yeah. You pretty much said that already.”

“And I mean like… even if I am into boys too, which I am, by the way… I hadn’t really accepted that yet. Hell, what am I saying, I still haven’t fully accepted that. So it’s hard. It’s really fucking hard.” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s like, there’s this voice in my head that keeps telling me I’m wrong, I can’t like boys, I’m a boy and I’m straight and I have to be normal, I can’t be in love with you or like it when you kissed me because that’s just horrible and unnatural and—”

“Dave!”

Karkat is staring at you. Shit, you were monologuing again.

“You—liked it when I kissed you?”

Fuck, did you say that? “I, well, yeah—but it frightened me, that sudden enjoyment, and I couldn’t deal with it, and I didn’t know what to think, so I just dealt with it by running the fuck away because I’m a coward, and I hope you don’t hate me, I just—”

“Shut up!!” yells Karkat. “I don’t hate you, dunkass!”

“I know, I know, but—”

He scoots closer to you, and there’s your heart racing again. “I swear to fucking god, Dave, I _will_ kiss you again if it makes you shut the hell up!!”

Your cheeks are burning. “So, what, that’s it then? I like you and you like me and suddenly we’re matesprites now, or whatever?”

“Matesprits,” Karkat mumbles. It’s his turn to blush furiously.

“And you want to kiss me again, do you?”

He looks away. “Yeah.”

You move closer to him until your legs are touching and put an awkward hand on his shoulder. Time to conquer some of that fucking fear. “Can—can I?”

“Can you what? Kiss me?”

You swallow nervously. “Yeah, I—well, we’ve seen what happens when you don’t ask first—”

Karkat turns towards you, and he can’t conceal the excitement in his eyes. “Go for it.”

So you kiss him. It’s short and sweet and absolutely terrifying. But by the end you’re not shaking, and you’re not running out of the room, so hey, that’s some improvement right there. Karkat’s got this big, loopy grin that you’ve never seen before. You love it.

“Better?” he asks.

You take his hand. “Better,” you agree.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you’re fucking bisexual. Finally, the label feels right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mayor, meanwhile, wonders what's up with his friends.

Your name is the Mayor of Can Town, and you are very slightly concerned about your two best friends.

No, no, you aren’t quite  _ concerned _ . You trust that they’re okay, both physically and emotionally. But you can’t help but notice a shift in their behaviors one day. Nothing bad, just different than what you’re used to.

You’ve been starting work at 10:00 sharp. Your reasoning is that an earlier start time will be beneficial to the two teenagers’ sleep schedules, forcing them to wake up at 9:30 or so instead of the usual 11 to noon. This change would then begin to affect when they went to bed (preferably before midnight, but you aren’t their parent; they can do what they want and you don’t have as much control over it as you’d like to think you do). For the last few days, Dave and Karkat have been diligently showing up at Can Town around 10 (once at 10:30, in Karkat’s case). They only complained about it once. You’re pleased.

Then one day, they don’t come at 10. Neither of them. Karkat is usually a little late, but Dave’s absence surprises you more—one side effect of being a hero of Time is that his timing is impeccable. You conclude that they must still be asleep, and continue to work diligently alone until your two friends finally stumble into the room at 11, apologizing clumsily. You notice that they’ve arrived together, which almost never happens.

You assure them that it’s all okay, and that they’re allowed to sleep in sometimes. Dave mentions that he had a rough night. “Sorta,” he adds cryptically.

“Yeah,” says Karkat. His cheeks are a little darker than usual.

“There were some, uh, problems. But we sorted them out.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” you sign back.

The two of them get to work. They don’t really talk to each other, you notice. But they stick close together, always choosing to work on the same part of Can Town. Dave doesn’t mutter to himself, or at least not that you can hear. When they do talk, the conversation is shallow and lacks substance. Questions about town logistics, random insults, the like. But it’s not a forced or an awkward silence, you come to realize. More like quiet contemplation.

When it’s time for them to leave, you pull on Dave’s cape and ask him if he can stay for a second. Just to clean up a little. Nothing big. Karkat stops as well, but Dave shoos him away.

As soon as Karkat is out of earshot, you look up at Dave.

“Forgive me for prying, but is everything all right between you and Karkat?”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah,” says Dave, with one of his blanker expressions. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You were just very quiet today, that’s all.”

The corners of his mouth tilt up. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all good.”

He leaves before you can ask him to elaborate.

The next day, Dave and Karkat are on time. And the next, and the next. Their constant banter returns to normal levels. But there’s still that shift that you can’t keep out of your mind. It’s almost as if their conversations are… friendlier. The two of them certainly seem to be smiling more.

And then on the fourth day, they’re late again. You wait until 11, fairly confident that they’ll come rushing in any minute. But they don’t. At 11:30 there’s no sign of them. Has Vriska scheduled a mandatory meeting for all humans and trolls? Is one of them sick? Have they decided to ditch Can Town for the day? They wouldn’t do that without telling you… would they?

So you go looking for them. You’re not too familiar with the rest of the meteor, but fortunately your sense of direction is excellent. Perhaps Dave and Karkat are in the lounge? You know that’s where their movie night happens; they’ve sort of claimed the space as their own, as no one else goes in there often.

When you get there, the door is closed. You rap on it a bit with your knuckles. Nothing. Hmm. You reach for the handle and let yourself in, quietly closing the door behind you—and turn around to a sight you certainly didn’t expect.

Dave and Karkat are lying on the couch, fast asleep, tangled up in each other in a way that is definitely not platonic. Karkat’s head is on Dave’s chest, and he’s snoring softly, using Dave’s god tier cape as a kind of blanket. Dave’s shades are propped up on his forehead. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his eyes before.

Something swells in your chest, and for a second you’re overcome with emotion. They look so peaceful. You’re so incredibly happy for them.

You’re about to leave (you wouldn’t dare wake them up, not even for Can Town) when something on the ground next to the TV catches your eye. (They’ve upgraded from Karkat’s laptop to a real television, you notice.) It’s a disc folder (a DVD, you seem to recall, is the name) with an intriguing title:  _ The Tempest. _ You flip it over and read the summary on the back, interest rising with every word. A sorcerer, banished to a magical island? You would certainly be fascinated to hear about the experiences of a fellow exile.

You glance back at the soundly sleeping couple on the couch. Surely they wouldn’t mind—you doubt it’d wake them up—

You start to fiddle with the television. Soon enough, you get it working, and you sit on the floor between the couch and the TV, turning the volume way down. Fortunately, the subtitles are already on (you wouldn’t know how to activate them yourself).

To your great surprise, the language in the film is different than the English your friends speak. But you get used to it quickly. You watch, enraptured, as the story unfolds before you. You were not expecting it to get so political. You hardly care about the central romance, which to you is nothing more than a distraction: you end up heavily invested in the regicide side plot, which concludes in an unsatisfactory way, with the king still alive by the end and the plotters punished. You are willing to admit, however, that Alonso is a much more sympathetic king than those you have had to work with in the past.

You’re almost to the end when you realize you’re not the only person awake in the room. Dave (how long has he been up? Probably for a while) is watching over your shoulder. His shades are still on his forehead, and you’re somewhat startled by the bright red color of his eyes.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you begin, but Dave dismisses the apology with a small smile.

“It’s cool.”

You want to respond, but the television screen distracts you. Prospero, the sorcerer, is in the middle of an exciting speech, and you don’t want to miss it.

When the movie ends, you pause it and look back at Dave. He’s running a gentle hand through the still-sleeping Karkat’s hair.

“What’d you think?” he asks.

“It was good,” you reply. “I liked Antonio.”

“The villain?”

“Yes, I thought he was an interesting character.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dave shifts his position ever so slightly, and Karkat snorts in his sleep, burying his face deeper into Dave’s chest.

“How long have you been together?” you ask, because it can’t have been more than a couple days, can it?

“Not too long. A few days. Sorry, we should’ve told you.”

“No worries.”

Dave continues. “And I mean, I dunno what our relationship really is yet? Like, we’re going slowly. Figuring it out. I still have to get comfortable with my sexuality and all that, you know.”

You don’t know, but you nod along all the same. It sounds like Dave hasn’t really been able to talk to anyone else about this, and you’re grateful that he’s chosen to confide in you.

Karkat stirs, and mutters something incomprehensible that possibly includes the word “fuck.” You stand.

“I’ll—I’ll leave you be for now. Please don’t feel the need to come to Can Town today. Do whatever you like.”

Dave gives you a thumbs up. “Cool. Thanks, dude.”

You smile at him, and quietly exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @heirofair22 on tumblr drew fanart for this i'm screaming???? it's so cute aaaaahh  
> https://universefrog.tumblr.com/post/176291972716/too-hard-a-knot-for-me-to-untie


End file.
